


Midnight Snacks

by Pawprinter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I was hungry when I wrote this, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Mainly just fluff though, Snacks & Snack Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawprinter/pseuds/Pawprinter
Summary: Clarke is terrible at cooking. Luckily, her boyfriend is the exact opposite.





	Midnight Snacks

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based off of this tweet: "[My bf was slow cooking ribs and I guess they were done in the middle of the night. So this man wakes me up at 3 AM and goes “here babe, I brought you a rib.” So we sat in bed and ate ribs. I’ve found my soulmate.](https://twitter.com/kacieraulerson/status/1096751160181035008)"
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Clarke was a student. She liked to consider herself to be an artist. She tried to be a good daughter. She thought she was a decent girlfriend. She was a girl who knew who she was.

That being said; she knew she was definitely not a cook.

Once, she nearly gave Murphy food poisoning from salad. _Salad._ It really didn’t require much skill to prepare _salad,_ but apparently she lacked it.

Another time, she forgot the flour in the cookies. You would _think_ she would realize when she was putting the dough onto the pan, right? Wrong. The dough (if she could even call it that) was so runny that it covered every inch of the pan. It bubbled over. It baked on the bottom of the oven. It was a disaster.

She broke her blender once, when she added too much ice when she was making a smoothie. The motor started smoking, leaving her house smelling like electrical fire for days.

(She still drank the smoothie though. Fruit was fruit.)

Her life was filled with similar stories. She banned herself from the kitchen when she accidentally spilt oil all over a hot stovetop while attempting to fry something. It wasn’t just disgusting mistakes anymore; she was dangerous.

Lucky for her, her boyfriend cooked. And, _damn,_ did he ever cook.

When she first met Murphy, he was the last person on Earth she would’ve considered to be a good coil. He spent way too many days ordering pizza and barely owned a set of kitchen utensils. She knew him as the guy who always brought beer for game days, always made morbid jokes, and _always_ ate the last piece of pie.

She couldn’t stand him at first either. He was cold and rude. It took her a long time to get used to. He wasn’t _trying_ to ward every other human away, he just was… Murphy.

It was easy to grow to love him. First, it was at a friend. Then, something more.

He was always there, a silent support. He had a strange way of showing it, but she knew that if things got rough, he was always there.

When her dad died, he was the only one to talk to her about the hard stuff. People didn’t talk to her about the things that Murphy did; he wasn’t afraid of upsetting or offending her.

In a strange way, even though his words _did_ hurt, it helped too. Talking with him was freeing, in a way.

He was also there for the funeral. And the nights after that, when she couldn’t fight the demons alone. And weeks after that, when she felt guilty for putting her life back to normal seemingly so soon after his death.

She never expected that he would be the person she turned to when she was at her lowest, but he understood. He understood better than anyone else.

From there, they grew closer. They spent more time together. She fell in love with him. He fell in love with her, too.

_Then, she found out he cooked._

Someone once teased her by saying she starting dating Murphy because of his cooking, but she was proud to say she didn’t know his skills in the kitchen until she’d fallen in love with him. The cooking was a bonus.

(Another bonus was the fact he never forgot ingredients, and he never accidentally burned the house down.)

He swore he never practiced or learned from a chef, but it was impossible to believe he wasn’t lying. The first time she tasted a soup he made, she could’ve cried.

(Clarke also considered herself a foodie; especially when it was Murphy cooking.)

This was why, when Murphy was shaking her awake, she wasn’t complaining.

“Babe,” he mumbled, his voice low. “Clarke.” She made a sound of acknowledgement and cuddled herself further into his arm. He barked out a short laugh. “You’re cute, but I know you’d probably murder me in my sleep if I didn’t wake you up for this.”

“What time is it?” she groaned, forcing her eyes open. The room was too dark to make out any details, but she could see his silhouette beside her, blocking her path to the clock.

“Three in the morning,” he said. Clarke’s eyes fluttered shut at this and she groaned. It was so early. At least she had a few more hours to sleep before she had to get ready for work. “I made food. Do you want a rib?”

She cracked her eyelid open and peered at him, her interest piqued. Sleep was quickly leaving her and she was becoming more and more aware of her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was that it smelt _amazing_ in the apartment. Her stomach let out an involuntary growl at it, despite just having woken up. Her mouth watered.

He already knew her answer. “I’ll go grab one from the slow cooker, okay? Just hang tight.”

His hand disappeared from her shoulder and he left the room. Before she could even begin to guess what he was doing cooking ribs in the middle of the night, he was returning to the bedroom, a plate in his hands. As he walked in, he flicked on the light and she winced.

“I have two kinds; I wasn’t sure what kind of mood you’re in.” He sat down at the edge of the bed and wrapped his arm around her waist. She shifted into a sitting position, sleep all but forgotten. “This one,” he gestured to a single rib, “is hot. This one isn’t. You have a preference?”

“No spice, please,” she requested. If she had hope for getting back to sleep tonight, she should stay clear of anything spicy.

With that, Murphy picked up the hot rib and handed her the plate. She picked up the rib tenderly and held it towards him.

He lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

She smiled at him. The whole situation was ridiculous, but it was also hilarious. It was so… _him._ “You do realize what time it is, right?”

“Three A.M.,” he repeated. “Why?”

She snorted. “No, I know. I just mean… it’s in the middle of the night. What are you doing in the kitchen?” She glanced back down at the rib. “And with the slow cooker?” When he didn’t respond right away, she smirked. “You know, if you get hungry in the middle of the night, you could always just have cereal or something. Like a normal person.”

“We both know I could never be normal,” he dismissed, his expression deadpan. She could tell how amused he was by the sparkle in his eye. “But, no, I didn’t wake up hungry. I started cooking them last night. Apparently, I don’t have any time management skills.”

She cocked her eyebrow. That wasn’t news to either of them, but it did get her interested. “Does that mean you planned for them to be finished in the morning or evening?”

“Not sure. I just never expected them at this time.” He brought the rib up to his nose and smelt it. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Want to play twenty-one questions, or you want to eat?”

While his words were rough, she let out a laugh. “Charming,” she told him. “I see someone is a little excited about his ribs.”

“They’re going to be the best middle of the night snack you’ll ever experience,” he promised her.

She didn’t need more prompting. She lifted up her rib and tapped it to his, feigning seriousness. “Let’s get down to business.”

He was right. It was the best middle of the night snack she’s ever experienced. Maybe it was because he senses were out of wack from being in a limbo between awake and not, but _damn,_ she could’ve sworn those ribs were the best things she’d ever tasted.

And, in that moment, while eating ribs in bed during the middle of the night, she decided that John Murphy was her soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr!](https://pawprinterfanfic.tumblr.com/)


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